in memoriam
by kcat1971
Summary: [Transitions Universe Bonus Story] Josh & Donna honor those who gave the full measure of devotion. Fits into One Good Reason (chapter 34) or can be read as a stand alone. (May 2007)


Wrapping a towel around my waist, I head back into the bedroom to wake up Donna. This mini-vacation has been good, but I need to get back into work mode. This day is going to be hard. In work mode, I can handle hard. But I really don't like subjecting Donna to it. Especially not while she's pregnant.

Today is the first Memorial Day of the Santos Presidency. As expected, President and Mrs. Santos will be attending services at Arlington National Cemetery. As their Chiefs of Staff, Donna and I will be by their sides. I'm sure if we asked, Mrs. Santos wouldn't require Donna to attend, but I know Donna wouldn't dream of asking. Looking down at her sleeping peacefully, I'm tempted. Tempted to ask Mrs. Santos to let her off the hook, tempted to just not wake her up, tempted to use what little husbandly power I have to order her to stay here and relax instead of making this trip.

I won't do that. One thing I've learned is that I can't protect her from everything, even though I desperately want to, and there are things she doesn't want to be protected from, especially things related to her job. I have to choose my battles carefully. Yes, this is going to be hard, but I have to let Donna do it. Because I believe in her, because I know she's capable, because I love her.

Reading our itinerary, it doesn't sound like hard work. Travel to DC. Watch as President Santos lays a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknowns. Listen as he gives a speech. Go with him to place flowers at Leo's grave. It doesn't sound like a big deal, but I'm dreading it.

Adding insult to injury, we're making the round trip on Marine One so that the Santos can come back to Camp David for the rest of the day. Donna hates Marine One. It makes her sick. I hate it when Donna's sick.

I crawl back into bed. At least I can make sure she starts out this day feeling loved and adored. I'm going to make sure the day ends that way as well. And in the middle, we'll try to hold each other up.

I lean over Donna and gently brush the hair off her face. Then I place gentle kisses on her brow, and her nose, and her lips. I trace my finger around her eyes, and down her cheek, and across her chin. Slowly, Donna opens her eyes and smiles at me. This morning is going to suck, but I can face anything with her by my side.

My heart thumps unevenly as I look in her eyes. I love her so much. I just want to spare her any pain or heartache that I can. Even if it means facing this day on my own. The words just slip out before I reign them in. "You don't have to go, you know."

"Yes. But I should go. Helen needs me." She runs a hand down my cheek. "And you need me too." Her eyes go soft, "Today is probably going to be kind of hard for you. You might find me valuable."

"You know I find you valuable. But the last time we flew on Marine One. . ." I don't want to remind her about how bad it really was. "I can handle the ceremony on my own. Helen can handle it too. "

"Josh, which is better? When we face things together, or apart?"

"Together."

"Right. This isn't going to be the easiest day, for either of us, no matter where I am. I'd rather be with you."

"I'd rather be with you too. C'mere." Donna puts her head on my chest and I wrap my arms around her and just hold her for a few minutes. Then I catch sight of the time. Sighing, I put a light kiss on the top of her head. "I think you should probably get ready to go."

About an hour later, we are in Marine One, taking off from Camp David, heading back to DC. Donna looks uncomfortable, one hand is griping the handle on the wall. The other is griping my hand. Very tightly. I'm losing feeling.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She answers through tight lips. Frankly, I don't believe her.

I watch her carefully for a few minutes, fighting the urge to ask again. Then Donna closes her eyes and leans her head on my shoulder. Well, okay, that works. She stays that way for the rest of the flight.

When we arrive at the Memorial Amphitheater in front of the Tomb of the Unknowns, I'm relieved that none of the traveling has caused Donna to vomit. And even better, she doesn't look like she's about to. She gives my hand another squeeze before she exits the car, face solemn, eyes serious. She walks tall as she accompanies Mrs. Santos to her place in the front of the standing area, looking every bit the professional that I know she is. I'm so proud of her.

I take my place to the right of The President while General Alexander is to his left. We wait in position until the ladies are settled.

"We're ready, sir." An aide tells the President.

"Thank you. Let's go." We walk in slowly, deliberately, while the Honor Guard follows behind us. When we are directly in front of the Tomb, I step back to stand with Donna and Mrs. Santos, while the President and General Alexander turn sharply and stand directly in front of a wreath on a stand. In the distance we hear a twenty-one gun salute.

As the Marine Corps Band begins to play the National Anthem, both the President and General Alexander salute the flag. I place my hand over my rapidly beating heart.

When the music ends, a young Marine brings the wreath to President Santos, then they carry it together to a stand and place it before the tomb. President Santos salutes again, and I place my hand back over my heart, as a Marine plays Taps.

The entire ceremony is fairly short, less than 10 minutes, but very poignant. The only extraneous sounds are the clicking of the press corps cameras.

A moment later, the President turns and walks back towards us. He pauses a second to take Mrs. Santos' hand and they walk up the stairs together, towards the Memorial Amphitheater. I take Donna's hand and follow suit.

Once we are in place, the Secretary of Defense gives a short introduction, then The President steps up to the podium. I get chills as he begins to speak, welcoming the guests to Arlington National Cemetery.

 _Here lie presidents and privates, Supreme Court justices and slaves, generals familiar to history, and unknown soldiers known only to God._

 _A few moments ago, I laid a wreath at their tomb to pay tribute to all who have given their lives for this country. As a nation, we have gathered here to repeat this ritual in moments of peace, when we pay our respects to the fallen and give thanks for their sacrifice. And we've gathered here in moments of war, when the somber notes of Taps echo through the trees and fresh grief lingers in the air._

 _Today is one of those moments, where we pay tribute to those who forged our history, but hold closely the memory of those so recently lost. And even as we gather here this morning, all across America, people are pausing to remember, to mourn and to pray._

 _Old soldiers are pulling themselves a little straighter to salute brothers lost a long time ago. Children are running their fingers over colorful ribbons that they know signify something of great consequence, even if they don't know exactly why. Mothers are rereading final letters home, clutching photos of smiling sons or daughters, as youthful and vibrant as they always will be._

 _They and we are the legacies of an unbroken chain of proud men and women who served their country with honor, who waged war so that we might know peace, who braved hardship so that we might know opportunity, who paid the ultimate price so we might know freedom._

 _Those who rest in these fields fought in every American war. They overthrew an empire and gave birth to revolution. They strained to hold a young union together. They rolled back the creeping tide of tyranny and stood post through a long twilight struggle. And they took on the terror and extremism that threatens our world's stability._

 _Their stories are the American story. More than seven generations of them are chronicled here at Arlington. They're etched into stone, recounted by family and friends, and silently observed by the mighty oaks that have stood over burial after burial._

 _To walk these grounds, then, is to walk through that history. Not far from here, appropriately just across a bridge connecting Lincoln to Lee, Union and Confederate soldiers share the same land in perpetuity._

 _Just down the sweeping hill behind me rests those we lost in World War II, fresh-faced GIs who rose to the moment by unleashing a fury that saved the world. . . ._

 _Tucked in a quiet corner to our north are thousands of those we lost in Vietnam. We know for many the casualties of that war endure. Right now, there are veterans suffering and families tracing their fingers over black granite not two miles from here. They are why we pledge anew to remember their service and revere their sacrifice and honor them as they deserve._

 _This cemetery is in and of itself a testament to the price our nation has paid for freedom. A quarter of a million marble headstones dot these rolling hills in perfect military order, worthy of the dignity of those who rest here. It can seem overwhelming. But for the families of the fallen, just one stone stands out, one stone that requires no map to find._

 _. . ._

 _If the fallen could speak to us, what would they say? Would they console us? Perhaps they might say that while they could not know they'd be called upon to storm a beach through a hail of gunfire, they were willing to give up everything for the defense of our freedom. That while they could not know they'd be called upon to jump into the mountains of Afghanistan and seek an elusive enemy, they were willing to sacrifice all for their country. That while they couldn't possibly know they would be called to leave this world for another, they were willing to take that chance to save the lives of their brothers and sisters in arms._

 _What is this thing, this sense of duty? What tugs at a person until he or she says, send me? Why, in an age when so many have acted only in pursuit of the narrowest self-interest, have the soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines of this generation volunteered all that they have on behalf of others? Why have they been willing to bear the heaviest burden?_

 _Whatever it is, they felt some tug. They answered a call. They said, I'll go. That is why they are the best of America. That is what separates them from those who have not served in uniform, their extraordinary willingness to risk their lives for people they never met._

 _. . ._

 _This bustling graveyard can be a restless place for the living, where solace sometimes comes only from meeting others who know similar grief. But it reminds us all the meaning of valor. It reminds us all of our own obligations to one another. It recounts that most precious aspect of our history, and tells us that we will only rise or fall together._

 _So on this day of silent remembrance and solemn prayer I ask all Americans, wherever you are, whoever you're with, whatever you're doing, to pause in national unity at 3:00 this afternoon. I ask you to ring a bell, or offer a prayer, say a silent thank you. And commit to give something back to this nation, something lasting in their memory. To affirm in our own lives and advance around the world those enduring ideals of justice, equality, and opportunity for which they and so many generations of Americans have given that last full measure of devotion._

 _God bless you, God bless the fallen, and God bless the United States of America._

(A/N- Exerpts from Remarks of President Obama at the Tomb of the Unknowns, May 25, 2009.)

President Santos solemnly shakes hands, and returns salutes as we exit the Amphitheater and get into the motorcade to go to Leo's grave. My stomach is in knots. This is Donna's first visit since the funeral. It's only my second. I stopped by one day during transition to tell Leo that I had finally "got it together" and married Donna. I sat there, thought about what advice he'd give me, and made some promises. Now I have something else to tell him.

"Excellent job, sir." Donna says softly, breaking the overwhelming silence in the car.

"Thanks, Donna. And thanks for being here to stand next to Helen. You and Josh may not have served in the military, but I won't ever forget that you've served this country, and you've sacrificed a great deal for it."

The way that the President of the United States, a combat veteran himself, is looking at my wife with gratitude and pride causes my breath to catch, and I have to fight back tears. He's right. She might not have been military, but I sent her to a war zone and she didn't come back in one piece. Thank God she came back alive.

I squeeze her hand a little. She looks over at me. When our eyes met, I see that hers are shining too.

For the few minutes we're in the car, away from the cameras, I can pull her close and whisper in her ear.

"I am so sorry. I love you so much. Thank God you made it back."

My voice breaks a little and I try to pull myself together. I wanted to avoid thinking about Gaza today, but it's just not possible. Those memories will always cast a shadow. I can only hope that over time it lightens.

Donna caresses my face. "I love you." She whispers back to me.

Neither of us says more. Really, we could talk about this for the rest of our lives but there isn't much more to say. Somehow our love survived the unthinkable. Twice.

When the car stops, Donna and I get out of the car and walk over to Annabeth and Bram who hand us a wreath and several bouquets of flowers. Once we are set, I let the President and Mrs. Santos know that we are ready. As they get out of the car, I hear the cameras clicking. I hate that this is a photo op.

Donna and I walk side by side behind the President and First Lady towards the grave. I wish I could wrap my arm around Donna's shoulder or at least take her hand, but we need to maintain decorum. As I look across the rolling greens, dotted with white markers, each with a small flag, an involuntary shiver runs down my spine. So much sacrifice for what we've obtained as a nation. I wonder how much more will be required to hold on to it.

When we get to the grave, Donna and I stand back to let the President and First Lady pay their respects. They place a wreath and some flowers. Then I hear him murmuring a prayer. After they both cross themselves, they turn back to us. They are both stoic and dry-eyed. I wonder if he would cry if he could pay his respects as himself instead of POTUS. I wonder if wishing that it will be 8 years before he can is really being a friend.

"We'll give you two some privacy." Helen tells us.

"Thank you." Donna says quietly. Her chin is already quivering.

As the President and First Lady head back towards the car, the press corps' attention goes with them. Thank God. I really would like this moment to be private, but in my heart I know it's not. Donna and I step up and she reads the marker quietly.

Leo Thomas McGarry  
1948-2006  
United States Air Force  
355th Tactical Fighter Wing, Vietnam War  
Secretary of Labor  
Chief of Staff to President Josiah Bartlet  
Vice-President Elect

"Hey Boss," I greet him, my voice low. "Donna and I have some news. We're having a baby. . . . . I wish you were here to meet the little bean. I have so many questions about how to raise a child. . . . And how to guide a President. I wouldn't be here without you. I just wish you were still here."

I take a smooth stone out of my pocket and rub it between my fingers. I guess it's fitting that this one came from Camp David. As I place it on top of the monument, I hear a strangled sob from Donna. Her arms are wrapped around her middle like she's trying to hold herself together.

Decorum be damned. I pull her into my arms while she sobs like her heart is breaking. I knew she respected Leo but this sounds like she's crying for a father. I guess in a way she is. Tears are pooling in my eyes too but I have to stay strong.

I rub her back and let her cry until she says "I think I'm going to be sick." She pulls back from me and covers her mouth with her hand. Her eyes are wide.

"Deep breaths, baby. . . . It's okay. . . . You're okay."

I really don't want her to be sick. She'd be mortified. It's not that unlikely that there are some long-range camera lens pointed at us. And no guarantee that there are friendly photographers behind them.

Donna finally pulls herself together enough to say- "I'm sorry. I didn't think this would be so hard. I know Leo was like a father to you, but I loved him too. You hired me, but he had the final say on giving me the job. He listened to me when I needed him, and he never talked to me like I was stupid. He said I was a "good girl," Josh!" Her voice catches again and the tears start back up.

I hate that our jobs require us to bury our feelings. I'm glad she's letting hers go. I cup her chin in my hand and give her a gentle kiss. "I love you so much. You truly are an amazing woman. I'm so proud of you and I know he would be too."

Tears are still streaming down her face while she lays the flowers on the site. "Thank you for believing in me, Leo. Thank you for letting Josh hire me. Thank you for listening to me when I said he needed help, and thank you for letting him come to me in Germany. I wish your our baby could get to know you in person, but don't worry we'll make sure she knows who you are."

When she's done, she turns towards me and rests her head on my shoulder for a second. I rub a hand over her head. I wish we could stay like this longer, but we really need to get back to the motorcade. I hand Donna my hankerchief so she can dry her face off and blow her nose.

"How do I look?" She asks once she's done.

Devastated. But that's not what she needs to hear. Instead, I'll give her a different truth. "You are the most beautiful woman in the world." She is. Even with red rimmed eyes and a runny nose. Her love and compassion blow me away.

She looks surprised when I take her hand to walk back to the car, but I don't care what anyone thinks. This is my wife, the mother of my child and she needs my support.

Leo told me not to make his mistakes. And I promised him that I would have a life. The greatest tribute I can give him is to be the best Chief of Staff that I possibly can, while not sacrificing my family. And that's just what I'm going to do.


End file.
